The virtual 1958-68 Giants, Reds, and Cardinals (Part 8: 1964-65)

For the Giants and Reds, it’s been a thrill ride of great success, with the only frustration for each franchise being the presence of the other. Meanwhile, frustration has been the constant theme for St. Louis, while in reality the Cards captured a World Championship in 1964.

The 1964-65 offseason: Actual deals we will not make

It was a trade that simply didn’t make sense from the Giants’ standpoint, and it worked out dismally. Cardenal, given a chance to play with the Angels in 1965, immediately became a solid regular, and played in the major leagues though 1980. Hiatt, with little opportunity to play given the crowd of Giants behind the plate, didn’t make the majors to stay until 1967, and never became anything more than a utility player. Cardenal would earn 212 Win Shares in his major league career, while Hiatt earned 48.

All along, the Reds’ handling of Tovar was, well, puzzling. After signing him at the age of 17 and immediately making him a first-string second baseman in the minors, the Cincinnati organization spent six years failing to promote this blazing-fast Venezuelan to the major leagues ….

Instead the Reds swapped Tovar for Gerry Arrigo, who was, to be sure, an intriguing young pitcher: a hard-throwing 23-year-old lefty. But he was one with dubious control, and a minor league track record that paled in comparison to Tovar’s.

Suffice to say that both Cardenal and Tovar presented minor league resumés of the sort that very rarely result in a trade before a chance to play in the majors. Moreover, in neither of these deals does the return provide a sensible explanation.

But, then, consider this fact: Cardenal and Tovar were both black Latins. And Hiatt and Arrigo were both white Americans.

And, then, consider this fact: in the 15-year period from October 1959 through October 1974, the Giants conducted a total of 95 transactions with other major league clubs. In these deals the Giants relinquished 27 African-American or Latin American players. They acquired just three players of color (Ozzie Virgil in 1965, Nate Oliver in 1968, and Dick Simpson in 1969), all of whom were throw-ins in deals in which the primary acquisition was a white player.

Consider that.

The Reds in this period didn’t demonstrate a pattern that stark. But Cincinnati as well made several key trades that were essentially black-for-white exchanges when they surrendered Curt Flood, Tony Gonzalez, Juan Pizarro, and, of course, Frank Robinson, and these deals were not balanced by trades for significant black talent.

Both the Giants and Reds in the 1950s and ‘60s were bold pioneers, leaders, in the scouting and signing of amateur players of color. The core stars developed by both franchises were black, either African-American or Latin American. But neither franchise demonstrated a corresponding eagerness to acquire players of color in the trade market, and both demonstrated a pattern of clumsy undervaluation of (or at least impatience with) young black players, surrendering them abruptly (in exchange for white players) before giving them a chance to develop: that describes not only these Cardenal and Tovar deals, but also Cincinnati’s Flood, Gonzalez, and Pizarro trades, and San Francisco’s handling of Leon Wagner, Andre Rodgers, and George Foster.

Our Giants and Reds are striving to avoid such blunders. Neither Cardenal nor Tovar will be dealt away here.

He wasn’t much defensively, but Talton was a good hitter for average. It doesn’t make sense to toss away a left-handed-batting catcher in exchange for a right-handed-batting outfielder for which we have no need.

The lefty O’Dell had been a consistently fine pitcher for the Giants since they’d acquired him from Baltimore in 1959. But he encountered his first off-year in 1964, his ERA ballooning to 5.40, and he lost his spot in the starting rotation.

However, O’Dell’s peripherals in 1964 didn’t look nearly as bad as that ERA. Moreover, his starter versus reliever splits in ’64 were extreme: In his eight starts, O’Dell had been blown out with 46 hits in 34 innings and an 8.55 ERA, while in relief he was quite effective, allowing just 36 hits in 51 innings, and posting an ERA of 3.33. At the age of 33, it appeared as though O’Dell was entering the phase of his career in which he might no longer be capable of doing well as a starter, but might thrive in the bullpen.

We won’t deal O’Dell at this juncture, but will instead give him a full season to show what he can do as a reliever.

Actually on this date the Cardinals traded Lewis to the Mets along with pitcher Gordie Richardson for Chacon and pitcher Tracy Stallard. We like Stallard, but we see our Ray Sadecki-less staff as having more need for the left-hander Richardson than the right-hander Stallard.

It isn’t as big a bombshell as when our Cardinals traded away Ken Boyer back in 1960, but this is pretty doggone explosive. And the reasoning is essentially the same as it was for our Cards back in 1960: being honest with ourselves, we simply don’t see our current nucleus as plausibly pennant-bound.

We love White, but he’s in his thirties now, and he’s never going to generate more trade value than he is today. And what a bountiful package of trade value this is. The not-yet-27-year-old Flood has been perpetually in search of a position in Cincinnati, but we love the idea of seeing how he’ll do as a full-time center fielder. And Pavletich and Shamsky are serious young bats.

From the perspective of our Reds, it’s leveraging some of our exceptional depth into a single star performer who’s as well-rounded and consistent as they come. White hasn’t yet begun to decline, so we can confidently expect at least a couple of years of first-rate production.

So, we embrace the rebuilding spirit in St. Louis. Schofield has been a steady performer, but he’s turning 30 and we don’t see him as the regular shortstop of a future Cardinals championship club. We’ll commit to youth at the position and see what develops, and we’ll give the 26-year-old Alou—who’s stagnated in San Francisco after looking like he might be something special—an opportunity in our outfield.

As for our Giants, a short-term horizon properly prevails. We’ve gotten a decent run from Andre Rodgers at shortstop, but his range is beginning to decline. Schofield shores us up defensively, and allows us to slide Rodgers over to second base.

And our St. Louisans will complete the infield bust-up by scrapping the 31-year-old Davenport, who’d hit surprisingly well for us in 1961-62 but then quickly faded. Third base is another spot where we’ll go with kids, while giving the talented-but-erratic Francis and the soft-tossing prospect Gelnar a chance to make the staff.

Feb. 11, 1965: The San Francisco Giants sold second baseman Chuck Hiller to the New York Mets.

Hiller’s batting average has dropped a neat 100 points in two years, which isn’t the sort of thing one often sees. We’ve shopped him around and found no trade offers, so we’ll just take some cash from the Mets instead.

The 1965 season: Deals we will invoke

Actually on this date St. Louis traded pitcher Ron Taylor to Houston along with Cuellar in exchange for the standout reliever Woodeshick and so-so pitching prospect Chuck Taylor. Our Cardinals don’t have R. Taylor and do have C. Taylor, so we’ll rework the deal. Washburn has shown flashes, but hasn’t developed as we’d hoped, so we’ll take this opportunity to bolster the bullpen.

June 30, 1965: The Cincinnati Reds sold pitcher Bob Purkey to the Chicago Cubs.

Purkey this year is encountering the kind of struggle that doesn’t bode well for a 35-year-old. He’s been a splendid asset since we acquired him so long ago, but the time has come to cut him loose.

1965 season results

Giants

We’re installing Schofield as our primary shortstop, and having Rodgers compete with Hal Lanier for the second base job. And in the bullpen, we’ll have rookie Masanori Murakami replace the retired Billy Pierce—Murakami is the first Japanese-born player in the major leagues (the next won’t come along for another 30 years), and we didn’t plan for him to be here, but he’s just blown away everyone he’s faced.

But our biggest change is forced upon us by an injury. Orlando Cepeda underwent knee surgery over the winter, and arrives at spring training entirely unable to do anything more than limp to the plate to pinch hit. His absence from the lineup will provide an opportunity for the rookie Cardenal and sophomore Jesus Alou to compete for serious playing time in the outfield, and put extra pressure on Willie McCovey to bounce back from his dreadful 1964 performance.

In St. Louis, Schofield had never been a good hitter, but he hadn’t been a bad one, slapping out a .260-ish batting average and drawing frequent walks. But he shows up in San Francisco and resolutely forgets how to hit. We spend all year waiting for him to snap out of it, to no avail. And Lanier doesn’t hit a lick, either.

Cardenal and Alou aren’t terrible, but Cepeda’s bat is definitely missed, even moreso because Boyer, at 34, finally begins to show his age. Fortunately, Jim Ray Hart proves he’s for real, McCovey does rebound, and Willie Mays—astonishingly, at the same age as Boyer—delivers a staggering season, a power-hitting clinic of historic proportion.

Our pitching isn’t quite the same patchwork quilt of sublime and ridiculous as our hitting, but it’s close. The starting staff behind ace Juan Marichal is shaky—the biggest issue being Ernie Broglio imploding due to elbow trouble—but the Dominican Dandy is tremendous, and so is our bullpen, headed up in scintillating fashion by the ageless Stu Miller.

And Pythagoras is kind to us, as we squeak in at four wins above projection. We need every inch of that extension in order to defeat the extremely tough competition.

Reds

The arrival of White at first base bumps Deron Johnson over to third, where he’ll compete with rookie Tony Perez. That bumps incumbent third baseman Tommy Harper to the outfield, where he’ll assume the platoon/utility role Flood had been filling.

The only other alteration is on the pitching staff, where we’re introducing an exceptionally hard-throwing rookie, Billy McCool, and last year’s rookie sensation reliever Sammy Ellis is promoted to the starting ranks.

Tremendous staff-wide pitching was the key to our pennants in 1963 and ’64. But this year we encounter some serious challenges on the mound. Purkey and Harvey Haddix both finally run out of gas, and Joey Jay isn’t sharp. Worst of all, our two top southpaws, Juan Pizarro and Jim O’Toole, both go down with arm trouble, with O’Toole especially ineffective.

Thus Jim Maloney, Claude Osteen, and Ellis emerge as a new top three, and though they’re excellent, they carry a heavy load. Overall our staff is good but not comparable to past versions.

But our hitting, as though responding to a distress signal, heroically rides to the rescue. Pete Rose ignites into stardom, heading a lineup that rolls out relentlessly ferocious thump, carpet-bombing opponents into submission. Our team OPS+ of 112 is the highest achieved by any team since the Boys of Summer were at their towering peak in 1953.

Alas, to the same four-game degree the Giants are helped by the Pythagorean whims, we’re hurt. Our resulting record of 98-64 noses out the Los Angeles Dodgers, but falls just short of the Giants.*

Cardinals

In our revamped lineup, Flood takes over in center field, moving Felipe Alou and his hopefully-healed knee over to right. Lee Thomas moves in from right field to first base.

Second baseman Julian Javier, our only holdover regular infielder, breaks a finger and misses half the season, then struggles with the bat when he returns. This widens the window of opportunity for the younger infielders, but no one does much with the chance.

But by and large things go pretty well. Our bench gets a shot in the arm from Shamsky and (especially) Pavletich. With Lou Brock and Flood at the top of the order, and a rejuvenated Alou and Thomas in the middle, we don’t scare anybody but our offense is nudging toward league-average again.

Our pitching is a work in progress as well, as rookie right-handers Gelnar and Nelson Briles are introduced to the rotation in mid-season. But Bob Gibson is terrific, and the bullpen led by workhorses Lindy McDaniel and Eddie Fisher is outstanding.

At the end of the year, we’re still stuck in middle-of-the-pack traffic. However, our Pythag suggests we’re a little better than that, and so much of our key talent is still young that we think—perhaps we’re kidding ourselves?—we may at last be headed on the road toward contention.

Next time

We’ll enter the final three years of this long-range experiment. Can the Cardinals’ persistence be rewarded? Is anyone going to be able to break the San Francisco-Cincinnati stranglehold on first place?

References & Resources* Bear in mind that in our scenario, the Dodgers don’t have Claude Osteen. Since they were unable to acquire Osteen in the 1964-65 offseason, we assume they didn’t trade the key talents they surrendered to the Washington Senators in the Osteen deal, namely outfielder Frank Howard and pitcher Pete Richert. We do assume the Dodgers would have made the rest of that elaborate transaction, and sent third baseman Ken McMullen, pitcher Phil Ortega, and first baseman Dick Nen to Washington in exchange for infielder John Kennedy and a large sum of cash.

The resulting 1965 Dodger team would have Howard taking the roster spot occupied for most of that season by Al Ferrara (because you really don’t need two slow, poor-fielding, right-handed-batting, power-hitting corner outfielders on your roster; given the cozy relationship between those franchises, Ferrara would almost certainly have been sold to the Senators). This would have Howard taking playing time away from first baseman Wes Parker and outfielder Lou Johnson, and thus cost the Dodgers defensively but meaningfully help them offensively.

The southpaw Richert would take Osteen’s spot. Richert was very good in 1965, about as effective per inning as Osteen, in fact, but Richert wasn’t nearly as durable. Thus the 90-plus innings pitched difference between Osteen and Richert would need to be covered by someone else, most likely fellow left-hander Nick Willhite, and that would hurt.

We estimate the bottom line impact to be a slight deficit. We certainly don’t see the modified ’65 Dodgers winning any more than the 97 games they actually did (without “spreadsheeting” it, we’ll go with an estimate of 94 wins), and thus in our scenario they finish third, though not far behind our Giants and Reds.

Comments

Yeah, it’s kind of a frightening thing to behold, isn’t it? And what’s more, the virtual ‘65 Reds offense presented here is only a fraction better than the actual ‘65 Reds offense. It was one of the very most potent lineups ever convened.

By the parameters of the Pythagorean theorem, if your average game score is 3 – 2 over 162 games, you should win several more games than the 4 – 3 average score team…. Maybe this is the difference between the Dodgers and Giants? Perhaps that great pitching did help the Dodgers more than their mediocre hitting hurt them or their great pitching helped the Dodgers more than the Giants great hitting helped them? Or maybe I’m reaching here.

BTW, did see Deron Johnson hit the last of his 4 consecutive homers over two games (Veterans Stadium 1971?)

I kid about the 1960s Dodgers. They were an absolutely genuinely excellent team. Dodger Stadium was playing as an exceptionally strong pitchers’ park during those years, which distorted the stats so much that we tend to perceive their pitching as being better than it was (though it was still damn good), and their hitting as much more feeble than it was.

And, yes, if this exercise demonstrates nothing else, it demonstrates that both the Giants and the Reds possessed the capacity to be consistently better than those Dodgers, had they only not shot themselves in the foot by trading away too much of their bountiful young talent.

Interestingly, Harper doesn’t lead the league in runs scored (126)and Deron Johnson fails to top the NL in RBI (130)in your virtual scenario. But, somehow the Reds win the pennant. Works for me…how did the Dodgers ever win anyway?

Steve, this and your virtual 1966 Giants piece lead one to believe that teams producing a lot of talent almost lose their sense of value because it must have seemed to them like you should be able to produce a Leon Wagner or Felipe Alou, a second tier star player virtually at will. So, they casually trade them away. Now, if they always got value in return that would be one thing. Alas . .

The Red Sox of the late 60’s and early 70’s were another team that produced gobs of all star talent (Scott, Smith, Lyle, Fisk, Lynn, Rice, Evans, Oglivie, Cooper) and couldn’t figure out how to make the best team out of it.

Yes, I think you correctly perceive the mindset exhibited by both the Giants and Reds organizations in the 50s/60s. They had such an embarrassment of riches coming out of their farm systems that they kind of lost the appreciation of how valuable this talent was, and how it still mattered to get value for value in trades.

It’s worth noting that not every franchise enjoying a talent gusher from the farm system falls into this trap. George Weiss’s Yankees never did, nor did the Dodgers organization in the 1940s/50s under Rickey/Bavasi. But the Giants and Reds in this period did.

As for the early 70s Red Sox … funny you should mention them. I’m actually playing around with a scenario involving them. Will say no more.

Over at the Sons of Sam Horn I did a pale imitation of your Virtual 1966 Giants for the 1978 Red Sox and came up with a 109 win team. Some of the other posters had some shockingly bad win shares stats for the Red Sox losses in trades from around 1970 to 1978, IIRC, around 400+ win shares. Ouch.

Jack Hiatt was a character. When Masonuri Murakami(sp?) was a Giant, he was pitching when manager Herman Franks came out to the mound. Hiatt decided to teach “Mashi” some English. When Franks reached them, Murakani said, “Take a hike, Herman, you hairy prick!”